


The Devil’s Library

by Louadorable



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Action, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Crying, DMC Week 2020, Dad-gil, Devil May Cry 3 (Game), Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Drunk Vergil, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Sibling Rivalry, Vergil Needs a Hug (Devil May Cry), Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:01:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louadorable/pseuds/Louadorable
Summary: An anthology of short stories for DMC Week 2020!Day 1 (Weapon/Blood) - After being blackmailed into one of Dante's sinister schemes, a young Vergil finds himself wandering into his father's forbidden study to retrieve a rather strange looking greatsword.Day 2 (Demon/Monster) - Waking up in the pouring rain atop Temi-ni-gru, Dante is surprised to find he is still alive after a violent battle with his twin brother.Day 6 (Home/Family/Belonging) - Upon coming home late from a rough day on the job. When a clumsy intruder makes their presence known, Nero didn't expect he'd encounter his father-And he certainly didn’t expect him to be drunk.
Relationships: Dante & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Nero & Vergil (Devil May Cry), Sparda & Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 107





	1. Weapon/Blood - (Vergil and Sprada)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Welcome to my short anthology of short stories for DMC Week 2020! :D
> 
> Unfortunately I wasn't able to do every prompt, so I have chosen to do three of them this time around! I'll be releasing them on the prompt days:
> 
> Day 1 - Weapon/Blood
> 
> Day 2 - Monster/Demon
> 
> Day 6 - Home/Family/Belonging 
> 
> I still hope that they make for a good read! Please enjoy!

Vergil could admit, he was never one for mischief. Rather that description better suited his brash younger brother, Dante. 

While he would always do as his parents told. Dante would always be actively looking to bring chaos and madness into their lives. Always pulling lighthearted pranks on others, or sneaking into places he shouldn’t. 

_Oh how the tables have turned_ , Vergil thought to himself, carefully pushing open the large oak door in front of him

A bet - one that Dante had made with him over lunch - had brought him here. To their father’s forbidden study. 

“You know what Verge? How about we make a deal? You get Dad’s sword for me, and I won’t tell mum about that stash of chocolate under my bed~” Dante had threatened with a devilish smile. 

As much as Vergil had hated stooping so low as to getting involved in one of Dante’s crazy schemes. He could not allow his mother to find that stash. Even if it cost him his dignity. 

Tip-toeing his way across the dark slate floor of the study. Vergil held his breath. He knew that the slightest sound would alert his parents to his presence, in the echoey halls of the manor. Father was always particularly good at listening out for any trouble Dante was making. So there was no room for error here. 

Much to Vergil’s relief however, the weapon in question was here today. Hanging on a mantle above his father’s desk, a massive slab of a dark metal loomed. Vergil wasn't entirely sure if he'd imagined the large eyeball on it or if that was actually a part of the design, but he definitely noted the bones piercing out of some sort of flesh on the spine of the weapon - which oddly reminded him of the roast he'd had for dinner. 

While gazing at the strange sword, Vergil tried to grab it, to win that stupid bet right then and there - only he was far too short to reach it, let alone touch it's hilt, which tauntingly dangled up there, well out of the boy's reach. 

He looked around for a moment. Desperately trying to find something to increase his short stature. Until his eyes landed upon his father’s grand desk chair. Padded in purple velvet and highlighted with golden embroidery. It’s height seemed suitable for the task at hand. 

_Hopefully father won’t notice any dirt on his seat_ , Vergil prayed. Pushing the heavy chair over to the wall and clambering onto it haphazardly.

It was tough just to balance himself on the armrests of his father's chair, but soon enough Vergil managed to grab onto the hilt of the enormous sword. For a split second he could almost feel it pulsating under his grip, but he shook the feeling. He had to be quick about it, or his odds of getting caught would just get even worse! With a spirited pull he yanked the blade off the mantle that had held it - only for it to immediately plummet straight downwards as his little arms could not even remotely bear the weight of it. 

"Oh no, no, no!” He yelped, panicked. Being pulled off the chair by the sudden shift in balance. His knees hit the floorboards, hard, and a pained yelp escaped his mouth before he managed to cut himself off. Preoccupied with trying not to cry out in pain, Vergil noticed too late that the blade was shifting towards him. He tried to push against it, but the eerie weapon was simply too heavy. It pushed him to the ground and landed on Vergil's chest, pinning him to the floorboards

All of a sudden, a man in a purple, came storming into the room. He was tense. One hand resting firmly on the black pistol attached his belt. Looking as though he were ready for a battle at any moment. 

His posture soon changed, however. Relaxing with a warm, fatherly smile of glee, when he noticed his eldest son laying comically trapped beneath his unholy weapon. Letting out a small chuckle, he waltzed to the poor boy and lifted the sword off him without breaking a sweat. 

“Well you certainly have gotten yourself into quite a predicament, haven’t you Vergil?” The handsome man asked, in a husky masculine voice. His sharp, glacier-like eyes filled full of concern, as he stared down at his son. Checking him over for any injuries. 

“F-Father! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! I just-“ His father raised a hand to cut him off. 

“Don't worry Vergil. I am not going to punish you.” His father leaned down, brushing away stray, snowy white locks behind Vergil’s small ear. Whispering softly, "In fact, I think everyone should get up to some kind of mischief now and again. Especially a boy your age.”

His father, uncharacteristically, sat down on the floor beside him, and began playing with his son’s hair. Slicking it back, as the boy’s head rested in his lap. Vergil lay there flustered. Beyond confused at his current situation. 

He wasn't going to be punished? But… Dante was always getting punished for foolish things like this! Why wasn't his normally strict father, treating him any different?

However, Vergil was broken out of his masochistic train of thought. When he heard his father mutter in a low voice, “I suppose he is about the right age for it, isn’t he?” His sharp, thoughtful eyes, gazing over at an ornate mahogany chest on the other side of the room. 

Turning his attention back to his son. Vergil suddenly felt a ginormous hand tenderly stoke his sensitive cheeks. His father was looking down at him. A small smirk tugged at his lips. 

“I know how you and your brother are always play fighting with those wooden swords of yours. Perhaps…if you are so interested in getting your hands on a proper blade. It might be time for me to introduce you to **_her_ **.” 

“Her? What has this got to do with mother?” Vergil asked naively. Causing his father to break out into roaring laughter.

“Oh my dear boy!” He exclaimed. "This has nothing to do with Eva! Come, let me show you."

His father stood up, and walked over to the nearby chest. Vergil scurried after him. Finding he had a hard time keeping up with his father’s long strides across the study. 

When he got there, he saw his father fiddling with a lock on the front of the box. But, it wasn’t like any lock Vergil had seen before. It was round, covered in weird runes and markings, carved into the pitch-black metal. It had a sharp spike in the middle, no smaller than needles Vergil had seen his mother sewing with. However, his father didn’t hesitate to put his hand down on the lock. Not even wincing when the spike pierced the flesh of his hand, drawing thick, oozing blood. 

Suddenly a surge of purple light filled the room as the metal lock shattered like glass. Causing Vergil to yelp backward in surprise. 

“It’s not going to hurt you, Vergil.” His father remarked gently. Resting a firm hand on the boy’s small shoulder, keeping him up right. “It’s a ’Clavis Sanguinis’. You will find they are rather good for protecting one’s goods against intruders."

“Intruders?” Vergil asked with surprise. A look of pure bewilderment spreading across youthful features as he looked up at his father. "Why would anyone want to break into the house? It’s not like we have anything expensive here. Even if they did make it in, you would just throw them out before they touched anything!" 

“Believe me Vergil. You’d be surprised by how many people would love to get their dirty little hands on this blade.” His father hummed. Wiping his blood off his hand with a white, silk handkerchief. Before opening the lid of the chest. 

Carefully, his father lifted the elegant weapon out from its resting place. Handling it with the utmost care, despite it being sheathed in a silk black covering. 

Sprada turned to him, and lowered himself down to his son’s height. He gazed into Vergil’s wide, blue eyes, with a certain proudness that only a parent could have for their child. 

“This is Yamato. A dark forged blade capable of separating the human realm from the underworld. Ever since the last Hellgate was sealed up.” There was a distant look in his father’s eyes. As though the man were reminiscing about some long since past event. “I've had little use for this weapon.”

His father smiled at him affectionately. “But..I suppose it is fitting for me to gift her to you. My eldest and beloved son."

Vergil blushed furiously, as his father handed over the ornate katana to him. Incredibly nervous that he would disappoint his father. The significance of what this man was doing, was not lost on Vergil. Handing over one of his most prized possessions, (to him off all people!), must have meant that his father had a great deal of trust and respect for him. Even if Vergil didn’t quite understand everything the enigmatic man was saying to him right now. 

As Vergil touched the blade, he again felt a pulse like he had felt when he grabbed the Sparda. Only this time, it felt more like the blade in his hands had...woken up, or something of the sort. What felt like a light electric current started moving up his arm, making his hair rise as it intensified in strength. What started as a light tingle soon became a burning sensation, engulfing Vergil's entire body. It was exceedingly painful, but behind the pain there was something else - power. A power Vergil had never felt before. 

Then, as suddenly as it had first appeared, the feeling dissipated. The electrical sensation receding back to Vergil's hand and into the katana. Though, he could still unconsciously feel the blade’s contempt humming in the back of his mind.

A soft chuckle escaped the man next to him. 

“Well she certainly seems to like you!” He stated excitedly. Shifting uncomfortability close to his son. Observing the boy’s every movement a little too enthusiastically. 

Now that he was no longer getting overwhelmed by the weapon's unbridled energy, Vergil noticed just how light the ancient weapon was. Despite being almost the size of him. He could easily hold it in one hand without straining his wrist from it - it felt quite different compared to his father's massive and weighty blade. Far more agile. Something inside the young boy just knew that this weapon was made for him.

Unsheathing the sword, Vergil could not believe just how horribly sharp the weapon looked. The blade itself was completely devoid of ornamental decor, etchings or anything like that, it had very clearly been made for one purpose and one purpose only: Cutting anything. He could almost feel its sharpness, as if it was cutting the air around itself just purely by existing - and he had no doubts that it would easily cut the floorboard (or even himself!) if he dropped it on accident. The thought alone was enough to make a few droplets of cold sweat appear on the boy's forehead.

“T-thank you father.” Vergil stuttered, as he stared down at his boyish reflection in the shiny, mirror-like surface of the blade. 

"But..." The sword seemed immensely powerful to Vergil. Hadn’t his father just said it could sever a connection between worlds? 

"But what if you need it again!" He blurted the words out without really thinking. How could he deserve something this powerful! 

To his surprise, his father burst into a roaring laugh, placing a hand on Vergil's head and ruffling his hair. "Oh, my dear boy...” The white-haired man shook his head and smiled sadly. “Those days have long since passed. I am a family man now. Not some headstrong warrior charging into battle. You can thank your mother for that.”

His father’s face hardened. Taking on a much more serious expression than Vergil was used to. His icy blue eyes sharpened in focus, as though he were not addressing the young child before him. But rather an ageless and undying soul that lay deep within his offspring. 

"However, should there be a time she is needed again. I trust that she and my legacy both will be in good hands with you, Vergil. As a Son of Sparda.."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! <3
> 
> Smol Vergil is such a pure boy. I love him! ;_;
> 
> I really wanted to explore a little of Vergil and Sparda's relationship here, as I think Vergil does greatly respect his father. So seeing that fondness for him as a child I thought would be really fun! Same goes for Sparda (Although I just generally love writing that fatherly disaster of a bug man!). 
> 
> I was mostly going off what was mentioned in the 'Before the Nightmare' here. Whereby Dante mentions how he didn't know Sparda was a demon before the house was attacked. Therefore Vergil here also has no clue aside from his dad owning some weird ass weapons. 
> 
> Anyway, see you for the next one! :D
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com


	2. Demon/Monster - (Dante, Vergil, Arkham)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! :D
> 
> Oh boy, this story is going to be rather angsty! 
> 
> I absolutely love writing in the DMC3 era if I have to be honest! So this story was certainly fun to write in that regard. But also really hard. 
> 
> I'll probably go into more detail in my note at the end. But I really wanted to explore the psychological effect of devil triggering, especially for a character like Dante who very much embraces his human side. Dante is of course aware of the fact here that his father is a demon. But still certain things that will come as a big shock to him when he has to confront them... 
> 
> This story also goes with the idea that DMC3 is the first time Dante properly devil triggers, and kinda ignores some of the stuff in the DMC3 manga. Mostly cause him DT-ing there kinda makes things really complicated! (For example: when he's doing stuff with Alice). So this just makes it far simpler for my poor mind to manage, as well as making the plot here making a little sense! (-。-;
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy!

At the feeling of cold air tickling his raw lungs, Dante awoke with a start. Coughing and gasping for air. 

His vision was blurry. No thanks to the little amount of oxygen he was getting into his system right now. But he could at least make out that he was alone on this dark rooftop now. At the top of this weird ass demonic tower. 

He eventually managed to get a hold of himself. The air was still bitter cold up here, and so didn’t exactly make for a pleasant breathing experience when he finally could once again. Which exactly helped by the utter downpour of rain drenching him with icy water. Yet at the same time it felt good. So _damn_ good to be able to feel the elements batter against him. Reminding him that he was alive and still kicking. _Wait. Why is that a such surpris-_

It suddenly dawned on Dante why he was laying here on the ground. He shot up and frantically looked down at his bare chest. Sliding his fingers down it until they came across a large and rather gruesome scar right in the centre of it. Newly formed and reddened. 

He kept tracing it over and over with his fingertips. Obsessing over it. Rising panic started to swell within him. _What the hell! Why hasn’t this healed properly?_

Throughout all his years he had **_never_ ** scarred. Not once. No matter how severe the injury. He could fall off a roof, break all the bones in his body, be stabbed and jabbed by all number of things! And then, within a couple of minutes be completely fine! Always! Without a trace he’d ever sustained it. His demonic blood always coming to the rescue whether he liked it or not. 

Ok, he preferred it coming to save his ass. Some of those injuries sure as hell wouldn’t have been fun to recover from normally! Yet, there was always a certain wrongness he felt, healing as fast as he did. It was unnatural. 

Dante had always been acutely aware of this fact. Even when he had been living his life as Tony Redgrave. He had quickly come to recognise he wasn’t like others. The white hair and devilish good looks were obviously a big clue. But that had only became more apparent to him when puberty had hit him like a truck, and he started to get a lot more attention from those lovely ladies over at Love Planet. No, even before then, it had been his insanely fast healing that had separated him from the average human. A job could go south and everyone could die - riddled with bullets with no chance at recovery - and then he’d walk out completely unscathed. 

This kind of thing had freaked him out at first. Not helped by the fact he’d then have to come up with hastily thought up excuses like “I had sheltered behind a table when the bullets went flying” or “I was late to walk into the room.” to explain to his fellow mercenaries why all their friends were dead, but he was completely fine. But after a while he had just accepted that this was part of him. That through some strange power, he could heal within a matter of seconds. 

It was only after…. _that incident_ , where he had been violently set free of the amnesia that had been plaguing him. That he remembered the true reason why this was the case. That he was a demon. That half of him belonged to the same species that had brutally killed his mother in front of him… _and now you too Nell._

He could hardly bear the thought of this at the time. Still couldn’t. Only being able to accept on a rational level that all these weird quirks of his were brought about because of his demonic side. Never wanting to think through the implications about what being half of _anything_ truly meant. Well, until tonight that was….

_Vergil._

* * *

In a strange way, fighting with Vergil hadn’t changed much since they were kids. 

It was a violent and complex dance of blade-work to say the least. But it felt familiar to Dante. This tango of theirs having been rigorously practiced since birth. All the basic footwork and parrying actions they were performing against each other, coming straight out of the days when all a mistake would've cost was a whack to the head with a wooden sword.

Yet it was faster than Dante remembered it being. Way faster. Almost to the point where _he_ of all people could barely keep up with Vergil’s rapid strikes. His brother could be in front of him one moment, and then in an explosion of blue light, appear behind him in less than a second. Yamato’s sharp blade coming dangerously close, slicing the delicate flesh of his neck, leaving him brief milliseconds to duck to avoid it. 

_That was a close one. Man, I can barely keep up with this!_ Dante thought to himself. Stumbling backwards in a brief intermission of charging strikes from his brother, as Vergil re-sheathed his blade flamboyantly. 

“I was expecting more from you, Dante. You’re not holding back on me after all this time are you?” Vergil asked with a cold elequancy. Somehow, as always, maintaining a regal aura to himself despite being utterly drenched. His neatly slicked back, precisely ordered hair from moments ago, now a soggy mop of white hair flopping down over his sharp features. Yet this did nothing to soften them in the pale moon light. No, there was no mercy in those glacier eyes of his, as he started down his brother. Thoroughly unimpressed by his lackluster performance. 

“Holding back? As if! I was just warming up!” Dante stated confidently; repositioning himself, with a toothy grin, so that Rebellion was pointed squarely at his brother’s chest. 

Yet, there was a nagging itch in the back of his behind that screamed something was wrong here. As much as Dante didn’t want to admit it, he was lagging behind in this fight. Sure, he was holding his own against his brother! By no means losing in any regard. But he was doing so _just_ barely. The scale of power in this clash being heavily swayed in Vergil’s favour for some bizarre reason.

This fight should be perfectly balanced by all means. At least that’s what Dante liked to think. They were identical twins for crying out loud! The same blood flowed through their veins regardless of how much they differed from one another in every other aspect of their lives. By all accounts they should be equal! So what on earth was giving Vergil the edge over him here?

“Very well. Show me your motivation, then.” Vergil remarked. His voice growing strangely twisted and distorted near the end, as though he were speaking to Dante through some badly tuned radio. Despite standing right in front of him, mere meters apart. 

Quite frankly, Dante maybe would have liked a few more meters between him and Vergil. As if the inhuman voice leaving his brother’s mouth wasn’t already enough to send shivers down Dante’s spin, at the sheer wrongness radiating from his brother right now. In a surge of blue light, so bright that Dante had to raise a hand to cover his eyes, the brother he had once known vanished from sight. Replaced by a creature with dark, scale covered hide for flesh. Its head, like that of a hammer shark mixed with a samurai helmet. Slots where the creature’s eyes should have been, had an inhuman blue glow seeping out of them. Its razor sharp talons wrapped tightly around a familiar blade, as the monster slid into a battle ready stance. 

No, No. That was all wrong. Using terms like ‘monster’ or ‘creature' weren’t the right words to summarise what stood before him. 

It was a demon. Not unlike the ones he had fought on the way up this god-forsaken tower. 

A devil. Powerful and sentient enough to know what it was doing right now.

And…. **Vergil?**

But that couldn’t be right! That thing sure as hell wasn’t the Vergil he knew! He hadn’t been since they had met a year ago. The old Vergil, the one Dante remembered clearly from childhood, was always so quiet and shy. So easily teased to become flustered. And very much human in every respect. He refused to accept that this _thing…._ was _his_ Vergil. 

All of this just had to be some cruel game of some fucking demon, didn’t it? Having the time of its life parading around in his long since dead brother’s image, and only now showing its true self. Hell! What was there to say that it wasn’t something that creepy-ass bald guy from earlier had summoned to torment him for his amulet-

“What? Not making the first move? Perhaps you're not as brash as I remembered…” The demon pondered quietly to itself, raising a hand to its chin. Its inflection and thoughtfulness in its every word, undeniably similar to that of his older brother’s all those years ago. Harsher and more condescending, granted. But in one swift blow those words shattered those tedious conspiracies Dante had concocted just now. Leaving its broken shards to impale his heart, as he was left to stare at the obvious truth before him….

…Well, he would have done. Had he not had better things to be doing right now!

 _Alright, so Vergil is cheating. So much for a man of guts and honour then, huh?_ Dante thought to himself. Bending his knees in preparation, as he tightened his grip on his blade. His knuckles turning white and hand trembling violently with tension. _Fine, I’ll have it your way bro!_

And so he charged. Throwing himself at Vergil with all the weight he could possibly muster behind his sword. Although he had given no verbal warning, Vergil swiftly pulled Yamato’s blade from its case and parried his attack. A low growl, like a wolf warning its prey, leaving his demonic brother’s vestige as Vergil pushed back against his heavy blade. Summoning a series of phantom swords around his body, forcing Dante to retreat backwards to avoid them slicing his exposed midriff. 

They fought like this for quite some while. The rain growing harder and harder as it beat down around them, in sync with the intensity of their battle. It seemed Vergil couldn’t stay in that weird-ass demon form for long though, eventually reverting back to his human self. But for that brief minute he was in his demonic form. Dante didn’t think he’d ever fought as hard as he did then in his life! The guy sure as hell didn’t know when to stop! As Vergil kept darting around his person with deadly blows, only missing him by a hair’s breadth on multiple accessions. 

Yet, no matter how precise and elegant his brother’s strikes were. The animalistic malice behind his every move was barely hidden. As Vergil seemed to gladly embrace this monstrous side of him with murderous glee, with little regard for what humanity it was costing him. 

It affected Dante deeply. Not only as he grew more exhausted the longer this fight lasted. But also as doubts and insecurity he had long since thought he had buried began to rise to the surface once more. Was this what awaited him if he gave into his demonic side? 

He didn’t want that. Want what Vergil had become. His dashing good-looks would be totally ruined by turning into one of those ugly fuckers for a start! And what if his charming personality got all twisted up like Vergil’s had? There went his chance with the ladies if he started growling and hissing at them from across the street-

Yet the possibility was there. Vergil and him were but reflections of one another. So it wasn’t a huge jump in logical to think that he could become like that. Fuck, if Vergil of all people, collect and considered as he always was, couldn’t resist giving into the temptation of his demonic side - discarding his humanity and the lives of others without second thought under its entrancing spell - then what hope was there for him? As someone who was far more reckless, and….alright, _a bit self-centered_ if Dante had to be brutally honest with himself. 

It was a frightening thought. Something that must've shown on his face without him realising it. As when he and Vergil next clashed swords with one another, when their pale noses almost touched with how close their faces were for the briefest moment, Dante could see recognition in Vergil’s sapphire eyes. Widening in distress as glimpsed the revulsion his little brother felt for what he was. He looked...hurt?

Vergil's facade quickly snapped back to the offensive. Covering up any insecurity he must have felt behind a vicious, burning glare. His regal face twisting with anger, as he suddenly dropped all sense of sportsmanship. Kicking Dante hard in the shin, before thrusting Yamato’s pommel into his twin’s stomach. 

The force of the hit sent him flying backwards through the freezing, open air. Only coming to a sudden stop, when his back painfully collided with one of the stone gargoyles. Forcing the wind to go flying out of his raw lungs. Leaving Dante reflexively gasping for air, as he tumbled to pull his gun from its holster. Firing off shots he knew wouldn’t hit his brother in order to give him just enough time to recover-

“Why do you refuse to gain power?” Vergil asked suddenly. Bringing the fight to a standstill. 

“Wha-“

“Why do you refuse to gain the power of our father, Sparda?” Vergil asked again. A certain proudness in his voice at the mention of their father’s name. A reverence their father didn’t deserve. Not after what he had done.

“Father?” Dante chuckled weakly, finally catching his breath again. “I don’t have a father.” He never had done. Vergil was always his favourite anyway. Even before he had abandoned them, and left Eva to die doing what _he_ should have done. Protecting them.

How great of a saviour mankind was he if he couldn’t protect his own family? That bastard was no better than those demons who prayed off people’s hopes and dreams! Offering a deal of protection to their mother, only to never follow up on his end of the bargain. What was the point taking up anything Sparda gave him if he couldn’t even do that?

The fact that Vergil could do so was a greater betrayal in Dante’s eyes if anything. 

“I just don’t like you, that’s all.” He said; unable to stop the smug tone from biting into his words. Pulling himself up from the ground and standing firm. 

He watched from across the rooftop as his brother’s sharp jaw grew tighter, and tighter at his cruel words. His aristocratic face turning a bright, crimson red. Barely containing himself, as small tremors moved throughout his twin’s stiff body. The grip on Yamato’s handle on the verge of drawing blood from his deathly pale hand-

He exploded. Dashing towards Dante at unimaginable speed.

Acting fast, Dante raised his blade high so it caught Vergil’s. And when it did, the demon-hunter was forced to slam his feet into the ground in order not to be thrown backwards by its force. 

_Crap! Maybe that was going a bit far._ Dante thought to himself. Struggling to maintain his balance under Vergil’s weight. Although his brother was deathly silent, the windows to his soul concealed beneath the shadow of his snowy white locks - Dante could clearly understand the hidden words his twin was speaking to him in this moment. All the years of pent up frustration, jealousy and resentment that had been brewing beneath the surface were now uncontrollably pouring forth from Vergil’s blade, like a mighty anguished cry. 

Sparks began flying off the two blades, as the unbearable pressure mounted between them reached its climax. Their bright flickering lights were swiftly extinguished the moment they touched the mirror-like surface of the drenched, ancient ground beneath them. 

This stalemate couldn’t last forever. It couldn’t. Even Dante should’ve seen what was coming next, when Vergil suddenly thrust his sword upwards. 

Caught off guard, Dante didn’t stand a chance at regaining his grip on his blade. It's rough handle slipping out of his grasp like it was made of butter. Sending rebellion flying out of his hand and into the open air above him. 

Dante watched it fly upwards. Utterly helpless to do anything but watch on in the reflection of his beloved blade as Vergil drove Yamato forwards into his midriff. 

An unbearably sharp pain rippled throughout his whole body. Only marginally lessened by the sudden shock of having thick blood surge forth up his throat and escape his mouth. 

He could faintly hear the loud clatter of his sword landing in the near distance. Not that he could turn to check where it was though. What, with being pinned through the chest by a katana and all! No, he was forced to pathetically watch on as his older brother looked down on him with that superior glint in his eyes; as his cold, trembling hands fumbled and failed to get a solid grip of Yamato’s razor-sharp blade. The urge to rip its cold steel out of his body, unbearable. 

“Foolishness, Dante. Foolishness. Might controls everything and without strength you can’t protect anything-“ Vergil plunged the blade in deeper. "Let alone yourself.”

His voice was filled with a strange mix of firm guidance towards his little brother, yet all the while brimming with great spite. As though he was deeply jealous of the fact his naive little twin ’needed’ to be told such a ’truth’ at all. 

The next few moments were a blur really. Dante felt Yamato’s stiff blade leave his midriff. Something that was probably more excruciating for him then upon first entry. Leaving him rag-doll like as his body struggled to deal with the shock of it all. He fell backwards, hearing the faint snap of a chain. His alabaster neck feeling strangely free of a familiar, comforting weight _always_ hanging from it. 

_He has my amulet._ Dante thought blankly. Seeing the blood-red gem glimmer beautifully in the pale moonlight before him. Now held hanging from Vergil’s gloved hand. _No! No! No! Like hell he can have it! It's mine!_

Dante frantically tried to reach out for it. To snatch it back. But his elder brother was one step ahead of him. Flicking the silver chain of the amulet up, so that its gem landed in the palm of his hand. Holding it close to his chest protectively, and far out of Dante’s reach, before his little brother’s fingertips even had a chance to touch it briefly. Leaving only Yamato’s sharp edge to meet his hand as a reward for such an act of defiance. 

He soon met the ground’s hard embrace. The cold discomfort of water splashing up onto his body, doing little to reinvigorate his already depleted energy reserves. All he could do was lay there. Starting up at his older brother towering impossibly high above him. Vergil, not even sparing him the slightest of a glance as, with one swift motion, he discarded any semblance of physical similarity between them. His drench, white hair neatly slicked back once more, with naught a single hair daring to be traitorously out of place.

“Do you have it?” A cold, academic voice asked. 

Warning sirens immediately went off in Dante’s head. Embroiled in pain, he bobbed his head up with what little energy he had left. Of course, he immediately regretted the decision when a wave of nausea decided to rear its ugly head. But the sight of that tall, familiar, shadowy figure standing on the other side of the rooftop was enough to confirm his suspicions. _Hey! It's that guy from earlier! What the fuck is he doing her-_

**_“Its an invitation from your brother.” Echoed a voice from the near too distant past._ **

_“_ Yes. Now the spell Sparda cast will be broken.” Vergil stated proudly. Turning around with a flourish of his blue coat, its ends practically tickling Dante’s nose as it fluttered by. He began strolled towards the shadowy figure-

 _Wait, is Vergil mastermind behind all this? He’s not working for this dude?_ That thought hurt more than most. He’d at least been holding out hope that this bald guy had at least had something over his big bro forcing him to do this. But that seemed it couldn’t have been further from the truth. 

Vergil was doing this out of his own volition. Everything - from the mass destruction of this city, crashing back into his life after all these years just to stab him in the gut a few times (Both physically and financially the bastard), and then stealing his half of their mother’s amulet - was done by choice. And for what? To get this abstract ‘power’ their old man had apparently locked up in here? Wasn’t being a fucking _demon_ of all things enough for that guy?

Even if Dante wanted to pretend he was a grown up now. Childish things like _'petty revenge'_ were certainly things he had yet to grow out of at the ripe old age of 19. And so, he sure as hell wasn’t gonna let Vergil get away screwing him over like this!

Stubbornly, Dante attempted to push himself up. He had hoped his healing factor would have kicked in by this point. Yet, he could barely make it a couple of inches off the ground when his body screamed out in rejection of such a ridiculous idea. A shooting pain running up his chest, like hundreds of prickly thorns had been embedded into the skin of his abdomen. He couldn’t help the pained grunt that left his lips….

….A sound that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by his wanted prey. Vergil stopping dead in his tracks ahead of him. Deathly still. Slowly turning his head as he looked over his shoulder at Dante.

Well there went the element of surprise he had been going for! Granted, this wasn’t _entirely_ his fault. His healing factor _just_ had to go ahead and play up at the worse possible time didn’t it-

 _Wait, what is Verge doing?_ Dante thought with alarm. Watching as Vergil began to walk over to where Rebellion had fallen nearby. Picking the blade up off the ground and examining it in his hands for what felt like an uncomfortably long amount of time.

_Aw, come on! Please don’t tell me he’s planning on taking my baby girl too! Dad gave you your own sword for a reason, you know!_

But his elder brother didn’t turn to leave with Rebellion in hand. No, he spun back around to face his brother and began marching towards him. Slow at first, but grew progressively faster the closer he got to Dante. Never once breaking into a full on sprint. 

Dante didn’t back away though. No. Against all better judgement. He didn’t think his brother was enough of a dick to kick a man while he was down. That just wasn’t him. Went against his weird honour code or something. He was probably just gonna shove Rebellion in his face and parade it in front of him before taking it away with him. Vergil was certainly petty enough to do that-

A sharp prick priced through the skin of his chest. 

The next thing he knew, he felt his body be thrown backwards by the force of the thrust.

Shock got to him first before any conscious thought could. 

Aside from the pain. 

So much pain, flaring in his chest like it had been set alight. 

Through increasingly blurry vision Dante could faintly Rebellion’s silver blade sticking out of his chest. Blood was pouring out of him like a twisted fountain with each pump of his heart. Its beat growing fainter and fainter in his ringing ears with every passing second. Darkness swarming his vision. 

_Am I…going to die here?_ Dante thought faintly. Listening to what must be his final few dull beats of his heart. _Heh, and here I was hoping I’d be surrounded by those lovely ladies over at love planet when the time came. 'Universe….has always had it out for me...hasn’t it...._

_…_

_.._

_._

Then it came from within him. A surge of revitalising electrostatic energy traveling down from his blade and into his very heart, like it had been stuck by lightening in this midst of the surrounding storm-

**Awakening him.**

He could feel his heart pounding to life. Beating so fast that he feared it were about to explode. 

Fiery stamina flowed through his veins into his limp arms and legs. Making them feel…stronger than before. 

And there was this sensation. An icy cold presence that sent goose bumps shooting down his skin. Yet, it didn’t feel entirely physical. Sure, it was cold up on this rooftop! But no gust of wind could compare to this freezing presence haunting on the edge of his subconscious. 

Dante would have just brushed it all off as a side effect of brain damage from lack of oxygen or some weird near-death hallucination of the mind. But there was this... _familiarity_ to it, if Dante could think of the best way to word it. Like...he’d been feeling it his whole life. Only now heightened to the extreme to the as all his senses grew disgustingly overloaded. The intensity of it constantly changing like the presence had a mind of its own. Feeling as though it were….walking away from him? But that could only mean it was-

~~_Our blood kin tried to...kill us?_ ~~

_~~How dare he-~~_

  
  


_~~Leaving us to die like this…~~_

_~~Why would he do this? Do…this to us?~~ _

_~~He can’t get away with this!~~_

~~_Hurting us. Always hurting us so much..._~~

~~_He never understands!-_~~

**~~_Make him suffer! MAKE HIM SUFFER!_ ~~ **

The deep distorted voice’s whispers grew louder and louder, like a child in the throw of a tantrum. At this point Dante was sure he’d completely lost it-

Yet…deep down he knew that voice was right. So right! All Vergil had ever done was hurt him and treat him like shit ever since they reunited! He didn’t care about him! It was almost like he had completely forgotten Dante was little brother in pursuit of this fucking “power” he so badly needed! Just another obstacle in his way.

The boiling rage that had been building up in his system was starting to overflow, like lava seeping out of a volcano. Dante found himself rising without thinking. All his focus directed squarely on Vergil’s back as he headed towards the rooftops edge. 

He charged at him. Fists flying. Vergil must’ve sensed him as he turned around and quickly raised Yamato in defence at the last second. Dante’s hand punching through the blade’s metal and impaling itself through it. 

“I see, a devil has awakened inside of you as well…” _So I was correct, s_ aid a look of excitement that flashed onto Vergil’s patrician face for the briefest moment. His sapphire eyes glinted with joy as he looked on at his twin. Proudly?

 _Why is he like this all of a sudden?_ Dante thought suspiciously. Ignoring the searing pain radiating off his impaled hand as he twisted it around. Grabbing hold tightly of Yamato’s cold steel. _It doesn’t matter. Just make him suffer for all the bullshit he’s put me through._

Dante allowed his newfound rage to fill him with almost a supernatural strength. He flipped Yamato over. Almost sending its master flying with it if not for a well timed backflip. The sword swiftly being pulled from his hand as Vergil landed. beside the shadowy bald figure. Ever watching the scene unfolding before him with great curiosity, like Dante were some kind of lab rat. 

It looked as though Vergil were about to charge at him yet again. When all of a sudden the shadowy figure raised his old leather backed tome to Vergil’s chest. Stopping the elegant twin dead in his tracks on command. 

“Wait! We should leave. For the moment we have all that we needed.” The shadowy man instructed in an eerily calm voice. 

With an awkwardly stiff, yet approving nod, his older brother deflated almost immediately. Sheathing his silver blade in one clean flourish before returning it to his side quickly. Following on after the bald man as the pair moved to the rooftop’s edge. Preparing to leave.

Dante rushed to pursue after them. Only to find that his legs unable to move like deadweights had been attached to his feet. Making even the smallest steps feel as though he were fighting against invisible quicksand gnashing at his leather boots. Trapping the mercenary in place as every bone in his youthful body, now glowing with a peculiar red light, seemingly locked up in place. The revitalising stamina that was still constantly pumping through every fibre of Dante’s being, grew more and more intense - almost pulsating in its pressure - regardless of this. 

He was frightened by this of course! Who wouldn’t be with such a weird fucking contrast of states gang up on his body like this?! His stomach twisting and noting tightly with dread-

But…he had to push this fear down. He couldn’t let Vergil escape now. He couldn’t. Not with his mother’s amulet in hand!

~~_Vergil couldn’t leave him again._ ~~

  
  
  


_~~He didn’t want to be alone!~~ _

Foolishly, Dante tried to reach out after his brother. But it was in vain. As Vergil jumped off the rooftop’s balcony and into the midnight’s air without a second thought after the bald man. 

_Dammit!_ Dante cried internally. Gritting his teeth (Although something didn’t seem right about them. They seemed…sharper than normal.) angrily at his bitter defeat. Heavy ragged breaths escaping his lungs like an animalistic snarl. He felt like he were about to explode from the stress and pressure of this all.

Then he saw it. The arm held out in front of him going through a drastic transformation before his very eyes. As red scales and hide started to consume his pale, fleshy hand whole. His nails blackening like charcoal and growing outward to become almost…claw-like?

The crimson scales were moving up his arm now. Consuming the sleeve of his red leather coat into his body and graphing it to his new monstrous flesh like a second-skin. It kept climbing upwards. To his shoulder. To his neck. Crawling up his chin and up to the cheekbones of his handsome face-

A bellowing roar rang out around him. At first he thought it was another wave of demons coming to attack him. But it’s tone sounded uncomfortably familiar to his own…

….It was him who was screaming. 

Then he saw it. In one of the watery puddles nearby. A lone devil stood in the moonlight. Clad in red, and covered in shimmering crimson scales that only accented his demonic features. His toes had given way to claws, his mouth to a maw full of fangs twisted into a predatory grin. Most striking, however, were the two massive horns growing out of his temples, framing his demonic visage and those terrifying eyes like burning coals staring back at Dante. Following his every movement exactly the same-

_No! No! Stop it! This can’t be right! I- I’m not this thing! I’m not a demon! I’m not-_

He never got to finish that line of thought. The darkness taking him...

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> Poor Dante! Really down on his luck there wasn't he?
> 
> For someone like Dante who very much lived as a human (with amnesia granted), I thought exploring a little of how the small hints of his demonic side before now have effected his life! And how fully transforming the very thing you've been cutting down for years (and even opening a business to facilitate that), would certainly effect Dante on a metal level even if he didn't show it on the outside.
> 
> I do hope I didn't make Vergil too cruel! If I must be honest, I do have a *small* bias towards that motivated nerd! But I wanted to try my best to keep his portrayal here accurate in character to him in DMC3. While sneaking in more sympathetic elements, such as implying he's being just as manipulated by Arkham as Dante is.
> 
> But phew! Certainly a hard chapter to write! I hope it was enjoyable though! :D
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com


	3. Home/Family/Belonging - (Nero, Vergil)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!
> 
> It seems we've reached the last story for this week! ;_;
> 
> I've been really exited to publish this one! I certainly enjoyed writing this the most. I've only ever written Nero once before, for my Hanami Week collection. So I was pleasantly surprised how much I enjoy writing his PoV when doing this. This is also the first time I've written him with Vergil. 
> 
> Truth be told, I've always been a sucker for Dad-gil and Drunk-gil content! So this is certainly a wonderful combination of my too favourite indulgent troupes. 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! :D

_Welcome home I guess?_ Nero sighed to himself, stumbling through the garage door and into the house.

He was exhausted. Truly. Desperately fighting to keep his eyelids rolling shut even now, as he scanned the shadowy kitchen before him. The comforting smell of Kyrie’s homemade apple pie’s spices, still lingering thick in the air, not exactly helping his wish to curl up in bed with her and pass out. 

_God today has been a bitc-_

“Hey! Wanna maybe say goodnight to me or somethin’?” Nico suddenly called out. Nero turned his head, looking over his shoulder at his friend leaning against her beloved van. Flicking the ash off the end of her cigarette as she gave him that trademark smug smile of her’s. “It ain’t no small feat driving your blood soaked ass around! Van stinks to high heaven and back in there you know?"

“You know it's part of the job! Quit complaining!” Nero brushed off tiredly with a wave. “Sleep well Nico.”

“Yeah, you too!” She yawned loudly. Before stumbling over to the open van door and climbing inside. Slamming the door shut maybe a _bit_ too loudly for this time of night. 

_Nico’s been dealt with at least._ Nero reassured himself, walking further into the kitchen. He removed his worn navy jacket; draping it over one of the nearby wood dining room chairs haphazardly. Allowing himself to take this moment to just relax after a long day’s work, as he rested his engine sword to one side against the kitchen counter. His tense shoulders dropping with relief as the cool evening tickled his bare arms. 

_How much do I have to pay Dante again?_ Nero pondered, pulling a large wedge of bound up cash from his pocket. Staring down blankly at the money in his hands with clouded sapphire eyes. _It's a 40% cut of the profit so that would mean…._

Nothing. His overworked mind’s business hours were apparently long since over. 

_Fuck it, I’ll do the maths in the morning._

Tossing aside the wedge of money onto the table, Nero stretched his arms over his head. Allowing a howling yawn to escape him, before limply dropping his muscular arms down again and rubbing his aching eyes tiredly. _Off to bed for me then-_

**_SMASH_ **

_What the hell was that!?_

The loud sound of china shattering somewhere in the house instantly sent Nero’s protective instincts into overdrive. The stress of it almost made him practically triggered into his demonic form right there and then. 

There was too much at stake here if he dabbled. Kyrie and the Kids would be upstairs right now. Fast asleep. Vulnerable. Defenceless-

Nero grabbed his blade without a second of hesitation. Moving into the dark, open hallway with feather light steps. Not making a sound. He couldn’t let ~~_his prey_ ~~this demon notice his presence just yet. He had to wait for the perfect time to strike so not to alarm it-

“Damn… hic… vase! Get out of m' way!” Cursed a familiar nasally voice from beyond the living room door. Another loud crash swiftly accompanying it.

 _What the hell? That can'_ _t be! How did he-_

Nero moved to the door. Pressing his shoulder tight against it’s wood as he listened in on the chaos. 

It seemed as though there was only one voice coming from inside the room. Not another, more playful and lively, one that he would have expected to appear alongside this _particular_ person. Which while certainly comforting to Nero - that a rogue demon had managed to find its way into the house. This person’s presence brought up a whole other set of fears that kept Nero’s heart aflame as he carefully pushed open the door. 

His father stood there- Well, stood was maybe not the right word. Swaying back and forth like a wakey-wavy inflatable balloon man was more accurate. His gloved hands were desperately trying to grab onto something to keep him upright, yet pathetically missing every time by a considerable distance. Kyrie’s gorgeous pottery collection, that had hung above the home’s snug fireplace, was now in shattered pieces on the ground by Vergil’s feet. 

Nero took a cautious step into the room. Then another. Vergil still hadn’t noticed him yet. Surprising given how astute the guy normally was according to Dante. 

“Rrrrr! Jush let me grab you!” Vergil yelled. Determinedly stumbling forwards and reaching out to the fireplace mantelpiece one again. His fingertips successfully managing to catch ahold of it-

For the briefest of seconds. One of his father's knees briefly seemed to give in under him, and by the time the devil had caught his footing again he was leaning forwards in an almost comical manner. He briefly managed to keep some semblance of balance before he finally keeled over and smacked his forehead against the mantlepiece, sliding off the side of the fireplace in an almost graceful, if slightly delirious motion. 

“Shit! Are you ok?” Nero asked. Sending any kind of reasonable caution towards the man flying to the wind, as he tossed Red Queen aside and rushed over to his collapsed father. Sliding his arms underneath Vergil’s and spinning the large man over so that his head was resting on Nero’s lap. “That looks like a fuck-ugly bump you’ve got forming on your forehead there.”

“N…Nero? What are you doing here?” Vergil inquired loudly. The pungent smell of alcohol thick on his breath blowing up into Nero’s face. 

“I sure as hell could ask you the same question old man! It's 3am! Visiting hours for me are fucking over.” Nero snapped in a harsh whisper. Glancing over at the stairwell in the hallway, praying they hadn’t awoken anyone. “And keep your voice down!"

“Why w’that matter? Dante’s… the only other person who lives here! He'sh can deal with it.” Vergil chuckled, stumbled over his words, slurred. 

“Dante living here? What are you-“ 

_He thinks we’re at the DMC office._ Nero realised suddenly. Looking down at his red cheeked father. _He's gotta be absolutely slaughtered right now._

Out the corner of Nero’s eye, a twinkle of light suddenly caught his attention behind him. He turned his head, catching sight of a discarded Yamato and its sheath sprawled across the ground behind him. Its silver blade twinkling in the stream of light pouring in through a gap in the tattered blinds of the patio doors. 

It all started to come together in Nero’s head what had happened here. Vergil had gotten drunk and for god knows whatever reason thought it would be a good idea to come here. A really fucking strange thing to do considering Vergil had only ever been around here once before. When…when he had-

Nero touched his right arm self-consciously and shook his head. They had been over this. Vergil wasn’t himself when that had happened. He’d been tortured in hell for fuck knows how long and all he did was what he thought he needed to survive. He didn’t know he was his son. And it wasn’t like Vergil would do it again. Especially considering how intoxicated his father was right now.

But then again, the nagging itch of something seeming off about all of this certainly kept the demon hunter’s thoughts racing. 

“Vergil, how much alcohol did you have to drink tonight?” Nero asked in a serious tone. 

“What? Do you take me as'h a drunkard?” Vergil snapped with an offended, yet childish pout. Not at all giving off what he probably thought was his trademark wrathful death stare. “No, all I’ve had to… had to drink wash’a few cups of tea. M’ though really didn’t taste too pleasant tonight…"

Nero raised an eyebrow at that. “Tea? Then why the hell are you…. oh.”

While Nero had already had his suspicion Vergil wasn’t exactly the type to get completely wasted on alcohol. Hell, even drink the stuff! He certainly knew _someone_ who would’ve taken great pleasure in watching their uptight brother slowly unravel into a drunken mess like this. 

“Come on let’s get you somewhere more comfortable. My ass is getting numb sitting here.” Nero groaned, pushing himself up off the ground. 

He moved to go pick up his limp father. But his arms were almost immediately swatted away.

“Leave me. I’m not'sho pathetic I can't do it myshelf!” Vergil insisted stubbornly. Attempting to rise himself to disastrous effect. His strong arms wobbling like jelly as they pushed against the floor. Unable to support his body weight, with the increasing amount of pressure he was placing on them as he hesitantly rose. 

Unsurprisingly, they slipped out from under him. But Nero was swiftly there to swoop and arm around his father’s waste. Slowly helping him rise to his feet. No easy feat when Vergil still stubbornly refused to use him as a support, making him deadweight in Nero’s arms. 

_This is gonna be a bitch to move him like this._ Nero thought strained, as he struggled to keep the larger man upright as he flopped about in his arms limply. _Welp, guess I’ve got no choice then!_

Taking a deep breath, Nero lifted his father over his shoulder. Carrying him in a rather awkward fireman’s lift.

“Put me down!” Vergil demanded, in a fearful tone. As his father slapped his back desperately, trying to wiggle his way out of Nero’s grasp. “Putsh me down thish instant Nero!!”

“This is what you get for being stubborn _."_ Nero sighed tiredly. Deliberately jolting his father up into the air a little before catching him again, just like he would with Julio whenever he carried him like this. Earning a panicked yelp from Vergil. Which, much to Nero’s great delight, caused the older man to settle down as he desperately clung to his son’s shirt like it were his only lifeline.

“So dizshy… think... I’m about to...” Vergil started to mumble close to Nero’s ear. But he didn’t need to finish. Nero quickening his pace as the noises coming from Vergil increasingly reminded him of the sounds cats made right before throwing up. _You already trashed her porcelain, I swear, if you vomit on Kyrie's carpet even I won't be able to save you!_

He threw his father onto a nearby sofa. Before frantically scanning the area around him for anything Vergil could vomit into. His dark blue eyes quickly landing on the perfect vessel of choice. A large glass bowl resting on the ornate coffee table beneath him stacked high with fruit. One of Kyrie’s ingenious ideas in getting the kids….and Nico, to actually eat their five a day by placing it in reaching distance while watching TV. 

Nero grabbed ahold of the bowl and quickly flipped it upside down. Letting a wave of bananas, apple and oranges go crashing to the ground and rolling across the floor. He turned back to his father, now pressing his face deep into a cream-coloured pillow. His sickly pale hands digging into the fabric of the sofa as he groaned in despair. 

Carefully, Nero placed his hand on the side of Vergil’s head. Turning it ever so gently so that his father was facing him. He slid the bowl under the ill man’s chin. Its sudden coldness immediately stimulating a reflexive reaction from Vergil’s body, upon his lower jaw and cheeks coming into contact with the glass. His head attempted to jolt backwards away from the bowl, only to be blocked by Nero’s stubborn hand holding his father’s head down, as a mighty tremor ran through his body. His feverishly burning skin penetrated by contrasting stark cold that the bowl permeated no matter how much he struggled. 

Yet soon he surrendered his whole self to it. Fully leaning into the bowl and embracing the icy glass, as he allowed the contents of his stomach to come pouring out violently in multiple gruelling waves. All the while Nero was there, comfortingly stroking back Vergil's soft snow locks with one hand, while kneading the poor man’s tightly knotted shoulder soothingly with the other, throughout the whole process. Praying to Sparda that his father in his nausea wouldn’t notice.

He couldn’t help it. Vergil just looked so pitiful right now, and something inside of him……something inside of him just wanted to protect the cold bastard in his moment of weakness.

“Think…. think I’m done now.” Vergil murmured, his voice raspy and weak. Slowly retracting his head back from the bowl. He leaned back against the pillow once more. Closing his eyes as he took a series of deep calming breaths. Not so eloquently whipping his pinkish lips with the back of his hand. 

“Feeling better?” Nero asked gently, as he picked up the sick bowl. Pretty fucking thrilled to find that none of his father’s vomit had made it onto the couch. _Less to explain to Kyrie tomorrow..._

“Yes.” Vergil replied. His voice having regained the commanding strength it had had before. “Could I have some water?”

“Uh…y-yeah sure!” Nero remarked awkwardly high-pitched. Suddenly unsure what to do with himself now that his father was coming back to his senses. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Needed to kinda make a phone call anyway…."

“Make haste then.” Vergil muttered, rubbing his forehead.

Nero nodded briskly - not that it mattered, his father couldn't see anyway - before fleeing out of the room and out into the hallway. Tracing his steps back to the kitchen once more. 

Upon washing out the sick from the glass bowl, Nero placed it to one side to dry. He reached over to a nearby cupboard; pulling out a cup and filling it full of water, almost overflowing at the brim. He carried it over with him to the kitchen table. Its watery condense spilling all over his hands in his reckless haste. He couldn’t help it though. Every bit of him was shaking with anxiety. The peaceful option “Flight” being chosen as the suitable response to dealing with an extremely daunting father by his body for once. 

_Vergil can wait. Its not like he can do anything right now. Dude’s fairly incapacitated as is,_ Nero reminded himself. Reaching for the house phone - a rather cheap-looking, plastic white handset - hanging off a nearby plastered wall, covered in cracks.

Dialling a familiar number, Nero spun the thick wires of the phone cable around his fingers playfully. Waiting for _that_ voice to suddenly pick up, asking; “Password?”

“Yeah sure it's _'_ _I’m your nephew dumbass!_ That work for you?” Nero remarked sarcastically.

“Well good morning to you too Nero!” Dante greeted in his usual sing-song voice. Irritatingly, not marred in the slightest by fatigue. "Man, didn’t think you’d be calling this late-“

“Yeah, I sure as hell wouldn’t be, if your brother hadn’t just teleported over to my house!” Nero snapped angrily. Cringing slightly at how unintentionally loud he was. He really wasn’t doing a good job at keeping voice down was he?

“Woah! Hey! I don’t control what Vergil does!” Dante defended. Nero could envision him raising his hands in fanned ignorance on the other end. “Verge is a free-spirit. And he’ll just stab me if I get in the way, you know?”

“Dante…” Nero sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Look, I’m…. I’m aware I haven’t exactly known the bastard for that long. But he wasn’t exactly sober when he came here. Did you… spike his drink or something?”

“Maaaaybe?” Dante said, not so convincingly. When Nero didn’t respond, succumbed to the silently mounting pressure coursing through the phone and gave in. “Alright, yeah I did. Poured a few shots of my whiskey into Verge’s drink. He’s been practically a walking ball of anxiety and stress since we left hell! So I thought he maybe needed to loosen up a little-“

“A _little?_ Jesus Dante! He could barely stand!!”

“Yeah yeah! I know that now! But who was I to guess Vergil was such a lightweight? We’re twins so-“

“So you thought he’d be able to take it.” Nero finished. In all honesty, he found it rather amusing that alcohol tolerance was the _one thing_ Dante believed he and Vergil had in common. “Hate to break it to you old man, but I think that might just be your alcoholism kicking in there.”

“Ehhhh true. I really need to work on that…” Dante murmured, awkwardly trailing off. The cheerful mood dropping right out of his voice. Replaced by a quieter and far more self-loathing tone. “At least the results were kinda humorous, right?”

“Not exactly on my end I’m afraid.” Nero glancing over at the drying fruit bowl, a putrid smell of sick still hanging in the air. He shook his head. “Alright, I’ll look after him for tonight. But you're coming to get your brother in the morning, ok? Fuck, I don’t even want to think what Vergil is going to be like with a hangover…"

“That sounds like a fair deal, kid.” Dante agreed amicably. His nephew only imagining his sly smile on the other end of the phone. “Hey also, did that guy give you that money for the church job?”

“Yeah, he paid in cash. Wanna grab your cut while you’re round here tomorrow?” Nero offered. 

“Sure!” The older man yawned loudly. “Welp, have a goodnight kid!”

“Um, you too I guess..” Nero said softly, before hanging up the phone. 

* * *

“Hey, I’ve got your-“ Nero started to say as he rounded the living room door. Instinctually turning towards the sofa only to find it…empty?

For a moment, Nero panicked. Not knowing where his drunken father had got too. He frantically span around the area looking for any sign of the man. Causing yet more water to splash out of the overfilled glass onto the ground with a loud splatter. Yamato was still discarded on the floor at least - same as Vergil’s precious coat abandoned on the sofa. So he couldn’t have gone far-

Then Nero’s blue eyes caught sight of him. The room’s large silken curtains had been pulled aside and the patio door slid open. Leaving the large, dark figure of a man curled up in a ball just outside of them.

 _Thank fuck for that._ Nero thought, incredibly relieved. 

Nero began to walk over to his father, when an icy breeze blew through the open door. Causing goosebumps to go shooting up Nero’s bare arm. It seemed he wasn’t the only one though susceptible to the cold’s effects however, as the dark lump before him visibly seizing up, curling tighter into its ball, as it too shivered. An unhappy sigh escaping his father’s lips.

Nero didn’t think demons could suffer hypothermia. Hell, if some limb froze up and dropped off, it would probably regenerate eventually like he had! And Vergil was a very insular man. So the idea of just leaving his father there to freeze did cross his mind. Well, that and Nero didn’t know if he could be asked to muster the strength to drag the wilful man back inside, given how exhausted he himself was. 

But that just felt wrong. Vergil was another human being like he was. And he sure as hell he knew, he used to do the same whenever being around others got too much! Going out on nightly walks to the nearby bridge, avoiding the curfew guard, and curling up in his favourite spot beneath the bridge’s arch to watch his ghostly reflection in the water's surface, had soon become a familiar pastime to him when he was younger. Even in the deepest of winter, when the arctic winds would blow off the sea, relentlessly attacking the mainland and any of its inhabitants. With he himself on many occasions coming close to subcomming to its fury-

Yet, a warm blanket would always drape over his frost-bittern shoulders at the last minute. A young man, a curfew guard more kind and sympathetic than any one he’d ever met, would stand above him. He’d always sigh, and ask (more jokingly in later encounters); “Taking a nightly tour of the town again, Nero?" 

Credo couldn’t have been any older than 13 at the time. But soon it became a tradition between the pair of them, that Credo would keep a blanket on hand for Nero whenever he needed it. Even when he too would later go on midnight patrols with Credo when he was older. The young man would always keep a blanket tucked underneath his arm. Ready and waiting for his adopted brother.

Nero’s gaze traveled to a folded pale blue blanket, resting on the headrest of a nearby chair. A sad smile playing on his lips as he went to grab it. Putting it under his own arm, before heading outside.

With one hand he let the blanket unfold itself, letting it tumble to the ground, before haphazardly draping it across his father’s board shoulders, startling the older man greatly. He snapped his head over in his son’s direction. His aristocratic features rapidly jumping between a multitude of expressions in less than a second - from wide-eyed surprise, to tinged annoyance, and finally… sorrow? As he gazed up at his son.

“I got your water.” Nero announced softly, squatting down to be beside his father. Presenting the water glass before him. 

Vergil wordlessly took the glass Nero offered. Pulling it close to his chest, and snuggling deeper into the blue blanket's warmth. His head downcast. 

“Thank you, Nero.” He said with that same impossibly gentle tone he had possessed when they first met atop the Qliphoth. Yet, this time tinged with a certain sadness. He took a small sip of the drink, before retreating back into his small ball once more. His long legs having been tightly pressed against his chest by the strong arms wrapped around them.

“So why come out here?” Nero asked casually. Giving up squatting and surrendering his ass to the freezing concrete. Sitting cross-legged beside the bundled man. "Would’ve thought the living room would be more comfortable than out here."

“I needed some fresh air.” Vergil admitted. His gazed firmly fixed on the glass in his hand. "It's too stuffy and hot in there."

“Yeah that’s probably the booze fucking with your body temperature. I get the same thing if I drink too much.” Nero explained. Rubbing his dreary eyes sleepily. “By the way, you’ll be happy to know you weren’t just imagining things. Dante spiked your tea-"

“I know.” 

“Wait- hang on! You knew!?” Well this was certainly a surprise to Nero’s ears. Scratch that. More like the bells were ringing in the literal apocalypse, with Vergil deliberately falling prey to one of Dante’s pranks!

“Yes I did.” His father confirmed. Giving a small, solemn nod. 

“So why the hell did you keep drinking it then?!” Nero realised that may have come out a bit harsher than he had wanted. But who could blame him?! The idea that Vergil, of allpeople, could do something _that_ stupid just seemed ridiculous! He’d honestly say his father was making a shit joke in that weird, blunt humour of his, if it weren’t so sincere. 

“Because… I wanted to…” His pinkish lips twitched, as though something were about to come out, only to be pushed down at the last second. Vergil shook his head. “Nevermind, it doesn't matter."

“Doesn’t matter, huh?” Nero hummed, unbelieving. Running a hand through his snowy hair. “I’m not exactly buying that."

He knew he was onto something here. Vergil’s icy facade was breaking, piece by piece before his very eyes. All he had to do was get his father to come out with it - admit the truth. Something Nero was smart enough to know was going to take some incredibly gentle prodding to get Vergil comfortable enough to speak his mind. 

Vergil sighed heavily in defeat. Knowing there was no escape for him now, he pulled the blanket tighter around himself and pressed his lips against the cool glass. Taking a larger gulp of his water than before. He then looked back over at Nero. A twisted, pained smile tugging at his mouth as he spoke;

“I kept drinking… because I… I wanted to numb the guilt.” Nero raised an eyebrow at his confession. “Ironic isn’t it? Perhaps I shouldn’t be so harsh on Dante. It seems I am just as much as a closet alcoholic."

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nero said, gently. Sensing how uncharacteristically self-conscious his father was right now. “Look…alcohol is a well known coping mechanism. Not exactly the healthiest, granted. But I wouldn’t say you're anywhere near as bad as Dante, for indulging yourself a little in it with all the crap you’ve been through.”

“But… that’s the catch isn’t it? Dante’s only like that because of me…” Vergil despaired. His grip tightening around the glass, as he gazed longingly at his reflection water’s surface. “Ever since I returned from the underworld, I can’t help but feel Dante looks far older than he should. Anytime we meet someone together, I constantly feel as though I am being mistaken as the younger brother.”

“Well… to be honest, you do have a bit of a baby face.” Nero pointed out. 

“Yes, but we’re meant to be _identical!_ ” Vergil growled in frustration. Slamming the glass onto the ground with a clank. He covered his eyes with his pale hand. “We should look the same, and we don’t. My younger self… well he probably would have probably been thrilled at such news. But now… I can’t help but see it as anything but shameful.."

“In what way?” Nero asked cautiously. Sensing was entering dangerous territory here. He had to keep his prodding vague and just let it spill out of his distressed father. 

“It's just another symptom of my failure.” Vergil growled in despair. An awkward, uncomfortable laughter escaping him, almost like he was on the verge of sobbing. His lips trembled, heavy emotion. "Even in those darkest moments while I was under Mundus’ control. I had jealously believed that at _least_ Dante was having a happy life. That...everything I had worked my whole life to achieve hadn’t been an utter waste, because... I was spearing my brother the same punishment by suffering it myself. Yet, since returning, I can’t help but see how….how foolish such a thought was.”

The older man not-so-subtly rubbed away at his eyes. Trying his best to brush away and hide any trace of the opaque fluid that was starting to pour out of them. But it quickly became a losing battle, as more and more tears began to gush out of them against his will, overwhelming him - until soon he found he could fight it no more. He surrendered himself. Dropping his hand to the ground and giving in, leaving salty tears to roll painfully down his reddened cheeks, as he started blankly ahead at the garden. His face crumbling in on itself in despair, as the prideful man lost complete control of himself. 

“I was doing his accounts today. They were in complete shambles! Years upon years of misspending and debt starting from the time he opened that business of his. I couldn’t help but think it was all my fault the entire time!” Vergil wept painfully, unrelenting hatred in his voice. Reaching up and clutching a fist full of his silken hair in his hand tightly, almost to the point he was ripping it out of his skull. As though that was some kind of divine retribution for his actions, both then and now. “I’ve just been too terrified to confront Dante about it! Because I’m- I’m such a cowar-“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. As Nero pulled his father’s head to his chest, and embraced the devil. Wrapping his warm, comforting arms around his father’s shuddering body. Nero even going so far as to place a soft hand over his father’s tense fist to gently pry it open, freeing those tortured locks off white hair from their master’s stranglehold, before kneading through his father’s long hair soothingly with his fingers over and over again. All while Vergil buried his face deep into his son’s chest - convulsing with sobs. 

“Hey, don’t think like that old man. Yeah, you might’ve a part to play in why your brother is such a hot mess. But Dante’s always been a disaster. I mean he spends like 8000 bucks on a new coat every few months rather than taking them to get repaired! Who in their right mind does that?” An amused, yet stuffy snort left his father at that. Nero smiled. “See what I mean? He’s shit with money. And I’m sure if we were to hold Dante down and force him to clean his ass up, he’d probably look like you again.”

“Perhaps...” Vergil murmured quietly, barely auditable to Nero’s ears.

“That’s the spirit!” Nero encouraged. Rubbing fingers over his father’s tense shoulder soothingly. 

He tried his best to ignore the growing wetness permitting his chest. It was not exactly pleasant. His undershirt now starting to stick to his skin, as his father’s tears seeped and permeate through his jumper’s thick wool. But to shift Vergil over to his shoulder for crying too much, would probably be utterly mortifying to the poor man when his self-confidence had already hit rock bottom. 

“You sound like Dante.” His father groaned. 

“Can’t say he hasn’t influenced me a little.” Nero chuckled nervously. He hadn’t even clocked he was copying some of Dante’s mannerisms until his father pointed it out. Huh, weird. “But you know in all the time I’ve known him. He seems far happier since you’ve returned Vergil.”

“I doubt that.” Vergil snivelled despairingly. Shaking his head mutely in adamant refusal of such an idea; a new wave of burning tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

“I mean it! I haven’t seen that guy smile - and I mean **_really_ ** smile, not just those fake-ass ones that don’t reach his eyes - in years. Yet, everytime I see him with you. He just…” Nero struggled to find the right words to describe it. That pure joy he had seen reflecting brilliantly Dante’s blue eyes when they had first left hell. "Fuck, he just looks so over the moon that he’s got his big brother back!” 

Vergil froze. “I…I didn’t realise he felt that way.” He tightened his grip on Nero’s worn red jumper. Digging his sharp fingers into the wooly loops holding the clothing together. "I’ve just been so… so uncomfortable around him. I…never bothered to notice...” 

His words… they struck a little too close to home for Nero. 

“I know the feeling.” 

Vergil weakly peaked his head up in interest at his words. The littlest glint of fatherly concern in the man’s swollen reddened eyes, staring up at him, was enough of a surprise to Nero enough that he forgot to breathe for a second. Despite not being the one currently drunkenly crying his eyes out, and clinging onto him like he were a giant teddy bear. Nero couldn’t help but feel like a little boy who’d just irked his concerned parents attention. _Dammit, I shouldn’t have said anything!"_

“What do you mean by that, Nero?” Vergil asked quietly. Rubbing away at his watery eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling. “You… you have a better relationship with my brother, then I’ll ever have with him."

“Yeah we probably do! But its- its not about…” Nero grit his teeth in frustration. He couldn’t bring himself to speak the truth. Not in front of Vergil like this.

 _But it's not like he’ll remember anything you’ll say tomorrow with how drunk he is._ A small voice in the back of his head chimed in. _And even if he does, what is the worst that’s gonna happen? He’ll ignore you like he already does in this non-existent father-son relationship we have with him?_

 _You’re right._ Nero sighed, resigning himself to his fate. 

“It's not about Dante, alright? It's about you Vergil.” Nero stated. Wincing and screwing his eyes the moment the words left his lips. Unable to bare watching the older man’s reaction without cringing. But now it was out in the open, Nero let his heart pour with the pent up feelings he had kept tightly locked away for months. “How you feel awkward around Dante is exactly how I feel being around you! God, I have no idea how you feel about me at any one time! You're just always so hot and cold! Do you hate me and- and just see me as another clone of Dante or do you actually like me as a son?! I can never tell! And I just want to know so badly!"

“Nero.” His father uttered, painfully soft. His exhausted, tear-stained features aghast with worry, as though he hadn’t realised Nero felt this way until now. “I don’t hate you at all. P-Please don’t think that.”

Nero’s heart fluttered with giddiness in his chest, unable to believe what he was hearing. Vergil sounded…remorseful? About him? 

“I just…I suppose likewise I have no idea how to treat you. Your existence…it came as a shock to me. I never intended to be a father. If I had known…I’d- I-” 

A sad smile rippled across his trembling lips, his eyelids drooping tiredly. "You’ve accomplished far more in your life than I… ever have.... I'm...proud of you…”

His nasally voice drifted off at the end there. A heavy weight suddenly fell upon Nero’s shoulder. A head. It seemed his father had finally crashed out.

Nero sat there, statue-like, for a long while afterwards. Unable to think, to process any of what he just heard. The the long, deep breaths of his peacefully slumbering patriarch the only thing registering to him in that liminal state.

He was shocked, yeah. But honestly not for the reasons he was expecting. It was certainly nice to get the confirmation that Vergil didn’t entirely hate him and was instead just piss-poor at expressing himself. Not too much of a surprise given how bad Dante was at it, and even he’d suffered _far_ less bullshit in his life than the man currently snuggling into Nero's neck cavity.

But, to know that Vergil was **_proud_ ** of him? Well it was certainly a phrase Nero never expected to come out of Vergil’s mouth. To be admired for something by anyone was a foreign feeling to the young man. 

Thinking back through his life, the most he had ever been admired was when he joined the Order of the Sword. How proud Credo and Kyrie were of him when he did. Taking photos of him, dressed up smartly in that stupid stuffy uniform they had, alongside all the new recruits lined up outside Fortuna cathedral. Yet, it never did feel quite right. 

Granted, most of that feeling may have come from his distrust in Fortuna’s main choice of religion at that time. But, as the families of the other new recruits celebrated their success and showed them in tender affection. Even when his adopted family tried to do the same, it just made him feel…hollow inside. The insidious idea that they were just doing it out of pity for him, acting artificially overjoyed, because they wanted to cheer up the lonely little orphan boy for not having a family to come see him in his hour of glory - just made him feel even more distraught that he didn’t have a family. That he was truly alone and unloved in this world.

But that wasn’t true now, was it? He had a family. A real one - insane as they were. And to hear from the man he was biologically related to that he had accomplished more than he had ever done (not that Vergil had set the bar particularly high), touched Nero deeply. In a way, Vergil falling asleep right after muttering those words had saved Nero from the burden of responding to something he could barely process in his own sleep-drunk state.

 _Come on, don’t cry now! I mean, nobody's gonna see it but-_ Unfortunately his eyes had other ideas. Swelling up with warm, salty tears.

Nero let out a shaky sigh. He buried his face into the silvery cloud of hair beneath his chin. Taking in the fresh minty scent of his father, as he pulled the pale blue blanket up around the pair of them - covering them both comfortably. 

Satisfied, Nero let his eyes roll shut. Finally giving into long-awaited slumber.

* * *

“Nero? Nero where are you?” Kyrie called, frantically pacing around the house. Morning light pouring in from the windows illuminating her path as she headed towards the living room. Green quilted oven gloves still attached to her hands.

The sound of masculine laughter and excited cries of the children rang throughout the building, as Kyrie walked through the living room door. Her loose ponytail of hazelnut hair swaying behind her. “Dante is here- huh?!”

She couldn’t quite believe the sight before her. A nervous, quiet laugh escaped her, before the young woman hesitantly tiptoed over to the two men just beyond the patio door. 

It was strangely adorable to see them huddled up like that. The longer-haired man - Vergil, she assumed - was cuddled close to Nero's chest, her boyfriend meanwhile was resting his head on his father's locks. The blue blanket used to cover the two of them looked like it had slipped off of Nero's shoulder through the night, though judging by his steady and calm breaths the cool morning air was not having any effect on his sleep. They looked...peaceful, which came as a bit of a surprise after she'd seen the destruction in the living room. She had almost expected to find the aftermath of a fight, but it appeared as though she'd worried for nothing, thankfully.

 _I’ll leave them to it._ Kyrie smiled to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> This has been a really fun week! And honestly I can't thank you guys for the lovely comments! I'm always very nervous about publishing so this has made me really happy! <3
> 
> I suppose I'll have to get back on the grind with my main fic Demons(you).me! The next chapter should come at some point, so please look out for that! But honestly these community weeks are always a great excuse for me to write these short stories! I have a few ideas for some independent ones in the future that I might do. But honestly I just need more time in the world to get stuff done alongside Irl stuff!
> 
> Tumblr: https://louadorable126.tumblr.com


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